


The Divine and Her Warden

by valammar



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Post-Canon, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Reunions, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:44:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4485283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valammar/pseuds/valammar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The former Left Hand of Justinia has been elected as the new Divine. On the day of her inauguration, she only wishes her beloved were there with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Divine and Her Warden

It was a particularly hot day in Val Royeaux, made even hotter by the crowded streets. People came from far and wide - from Ferelden, from Antiva, from the Dales - to gaze upon their new Divine. The blue city was a sea of chatter, sweating bodies pressed tightly together like fish in a net.

Everyone had heard the news: the Grand Clerics elected Sister Nightingale, Left Hand during Divine Justinia's reign, as her predecessor. Word about Leliana's colorful past spread through the streets like a flood.

"I had heard she fought the Archdemon with the Hero of Ferelden!"

"A bard? An assassin? Preposterous! Sacrilege!"

"Justinia had many enemies, Maker keep her. Our new Divine has blood on her hands, I guarantee it."

Finally, amidst the murmur of gossip, the doors to the Grand Cathedral creaked open and Leliana gracefully marched down the white stone steps to the thunder of drums and the blaring of horns. As she proceeded toward a white carriage to make her tour throughout the city, a crier announced her.

“The Chantry presents she who will lead us, she who speaks for the Maker and does his will. She who inspires. It is she, your new Divine, Victoria!”

With that, the murmur exploded into a cacophony of cheers as Leliana’s carriage made its way through the streets, the velvet seat beneath her and her heavy robes and headdress doing little to ease the heat. No one would know she was exhausted from reciting the Chant in front of the Consensus. As an expert of the Game, her expression revealed only what she wanted: a soft smile to invoke a sense of trust. She represents these people now and they look to her for inspiration. And with that inspiration, she will create a new age of peace. She had only wished that she had Astrid by her side, wherever she was.

As she waved to her subjects, she could hear their passionate cries:

“Divine Victoria!”  
“Most Holy!”  
“Victoria!”  
“Victoria!”  
“Most Holy!”  
“Victoria!”

“Leliana!”

That voice. As her eyes darted through the crowd, she thought she caught a glimpse of her: a dwarven woman, with the pristine posture of Aeducan nobility, face weathered, Warden armor tarnished…but as quickly as she saw her, she was gone. An illusion; the heat and exhaustion was a terrible cocktail. Leliana made sure to conceal her sadness behind a polite smile as the parade continued.

Leliana’s legs ached from fatigue upon returning to the Grand Cathedral and climbing the winding tower to her new private quarters. The marbled hallway gleamed in the candlelight as guards bowed upon her passing, her velvet shoes clacking against the stone with a soft echo. She could still hear the festivities outside calling her name while she sauntered into the darkened bed chamber, the door creaking shut behind her with a mighty clack.

“Most Holy!”

“Divine Victoria!”

And then, a soft whisper behind her: “Leliana!”

She promptly turned with her mouth agape, and as her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room she saw where she stood. Astrid once told her that the first time she saw the sun, she was awestruck and immobilized. She stared into it until her eyes burned and tears drenched her face. It was in that moment that Leliana understood the feeling of being in the presence of something so incomprehensible, so powerful and so magnificent. It wasn’t the exhaustion, it wasn’t the pain that caused the sobs to spring from deep in her chest. It was Astrid.

“Is it really you? Please, oh Maker please, don’t tell me this is just a dream,” she pleaded.

“It’s me,” Astrid said, stepping forward. Leliana met her step for step and as their pace quickened, they threw themselves into the other’s arms, gripping each other. Leliana sank to her knees in Astrid’s embrace and sobbed. The Game taught her to tailor her emotions - which will serve her well in her new life as Divine - but she could never conceal her true feelings from Astrid. She was her outlet; the one person with whom she could lose her composure. They clung to each other, her lover cooing comforting words in her ear.

“How did you manage to get inside?”

“Being the Hero of Ferelden still warrants some courtesies in places,” she replied, stroking her hair. “Mother Hannah let me in.”

“The Chantry Mother during the siege of Redcliffe! I remember.” That battle was another lifetime ago. Leliana remembered Astrid: new to the surface and thrust into human politics. She was so young then. Her short blond hair had grown past her shoulders, sun-bleached and coarse with gray strands. Her milky skin had been reddened and she boasted lines around her chapped mouth and brown eyes. Some were from laughter, some from the burden of rebuilding the Wardens and journeying to the West. Through all the years, all the hardships, she was still beautiful. Maker, she loved her.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” she finally asked.

“I did, Leliana. I did…” she gave her a squeeze as her voice broke. “And I’m free.”

Leliana wiped the tears from her eyes, cupping her cheeks as she let out a small sob of her own, though they both smiled, leaning in to touch their foreheads together. The festivities outside sounded muted now. All Leliana could hear was the excited thumping of her heart in her ears and Astrid’s deep breaths.

“Will you be staying?” The question came out more desperate than she wanted, but in the swelling tide of emotion, it was hanging in the air unsaid.

Astrid gave a soft chuckle, like she always did when she found Leliana endearing. “I don’t have any plans to leave Val Royeaux tonight, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good. It’s been a long day. For the both of us.”

“It sure has.”

“We should…retire to our bed.”

“’Our’ bed, Most Holy?” She said coyly.

“You’re not expecting to stay in some squalid inn on the outskirts of town! It is as you said: being the Hero of Ferelden still warrants courtesies in some circles.” She tilted her head to one side as Astrid moved her lips in closer.

“Wouldn’t dream of it…”

“Good.”

Astrid kissed her softly, savoring their reunion. Her mouth brushing against Leliana’s, again and again, soft and tender, contented sighs humming in her throat as their kiss gradually deepened, finding their familiar pattern. Leliana opened her mouth to accept gentle sweeps of her tongue, the flicking, teasing sensation warming her at her core.

It wasn’t long before passion took over. Leliana walked backwards, pulling Astrid to the bed, making quick work of her own heavy robes and was eager to feel cool sheets against naked skin. Soon her back was arching, her hands gripping those satin sheets for purchase as her Warden manipulated her body with careful caresses, playful bites and hot, penetrating laps of her tongue. Calloused hands that usually wielded a broad greataxe were now massaging her bud with delicate precision. Leliana’s body tensed tighter with each circling stroke – strokes that she will pay back in kind.

As the throes of camaraderie in the streets waned, only one name rung through the halls of the Grand Cathedral: “Astrid.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely happy with how this turned out, but I really wanted my Warden and her bard to have a happy ending.
> 
> (Did you get the joke? "Wouldn't dream of it"? 'Cause she's a dwarf?)


End file.
